Free Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology by Martin Hengst

was almost worse…to know there was a way into the temple, but not knowing how to open the door.
    “Patience is a virtue, Sera.”
    “I’ve never been very virtuous. Can you open it?”
    “I’m working on it. Here, hold this.”
    He passed her back the torch, and she sheathed her sword, giving it a disapproving glance as she did. She should have had the smith forge a chisel into the damn thing, too.
    Declan swung his pack off his back and rummaged around inside. Where Serena’s own rucksack was filled with rope, provisions, and water skins, her brother’s was filled with pieces of paper, books, and strange instruments she could only guess a use for. Serena sighed. If she wanted to get inside the temple, she’d have to wait while Declan figured things out. A process that she found long and tedious.
    Her brother flipped open a book, holding it in the crook of his left arm while his right hand traced over a faded row of symbols etched beside the door. Declan produced a piece of chalk from his pocket and began writing unfamiliar words on the wall beside the symbols. He was completely lost in his work.
    Serena stalked about the small platform. There was little else to see. She could see the cave entrance from where she was, and the light outside was fading fast. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d spent the night in a cavern, but there was something about the place that made her skin crawl. Putting the thought out of her head, she continued her detailed survey of the landing on which they found themselves. She was pleased when she found a rusted brazier to the right of the door. She gave it a tug, expecting the whole thing to fall to pieces at a touch. It didn’t. She took the desiccated husk of an ancient torch from the brazier and replaced it with her own, rubbing her shoulder once she was free of the burden. It wasn’t that it was heavy, but hours of holding it aloft had taken their toll. Now Declan could work without her having to hover over him the entire time.
    Work he did , long after the last of the daylight vanished from the mouth of the cave. Serena had checked the stability of the railing around the platform and found it in good shape except for the broken areas, which were relatively small. If she fell asleep, she wouldn’t have to worry about rolling off the platform and plummeting to her death. She took a fresh torch from her pack and replaced the one in the brazier that had dwindled to a near ember. The dying one she threw as hard as she could, watching its orange eye arc out into the black and then fall for what seemed like an eternity before exploding into sparks somewhere in the riverbed. Then there was nothing.
    Declan was still writing notes on the wall next to the door. He hadn’t spoken in hours , and Serena doubted he would until he had figured out his mystery. He was like that. It was infuriating. Accepting her fate, she took a blanket from the bedroll tied below her pack and used the pack itself as a pillow. She nestled herself into the corner of the landing furthest from any of the breaks in the rail and fell into a fitful sleep.
     
     
     
     
    “Sera. Sera, wake up!”
    Serena didn’t want to wake up. She was having a nice dream where she had a big house in Overwatch’s Upper City. She had servants and more clothes than she’d ever dreamed of. Dresses in every jewel tone imaginable and then some. It was warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and her windows overlooked the great river that ran alongside the mercantile district.
    “Leave me alone,” she mumbled.
    “Sera, you need to wake up. I’ve discovered how to open the door.”
    That got her attention. She opened one eye and peered at Declan, who was leaning over her, one hand on her shoulder.
    “Really?”
    “Yes, really.” He settled back on his heels, hugging his knees to his chest. “But I don’t know if we should.”
    Now she was really awake.
    “What do you mean you don’t know if we should? Of course we should.